CODE BLUE FOR MORALS (5)

CHAPTER 5

They didn’t sleep.

Not really.

The hours blurred into a haze of tangled limbs, heated skin, and breathless discoveries. After the slow, soul-baring round that left them both wrecked and whispering truths in the dark, Rafael pulled her on top of him, letting her set the pace riding him until her thighs shook and she came again with his name on her lips like a prayer. Then he’d taken her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hand over her mouth to muffle the cries that would have echoed down the empty hallway.

By the time the storm outside had faded to a distant drizzle, they were slick with sweat, marked with bites and scratches, and still insatiable.

Valentina lay sprawled across his chest now, both of them on the narrow bed that had somehow held them through everything. The red emergency lights were barely a glow anymore, just enough to outline the hard lines of his body beneath her. Her fingers traced lazy circles through the light hair on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under her palm.

He was still half-hard inside her, no, fully hard again. They hadn’t bothered with clothes for hours.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, voice rough from overuse, but his hips rolled up lazily, making her gasp as he nudged deeper.

“You’re the cardiothoracic surgeon,” she whispered against his neck, nipping the skin there. “You should know how to handle a little tachycardia.”

His laugh was low, filthy. “This isn’t tachycardia. This is an obsession.”

He flipped them suddenly, pinning her beneath him again, but instead of thrusting, he pulled out slowly making her whine at the loss, and started kissing his way down her body.

“Rafael…” she warned, already knowing where he was headed.

“I’m not done tasting you,” he said against her stomach, tongue dipping into her navel. “Not even close.”

He settled between her thighs, spreading her open with strong hands. She was swollen, sensitive, dripping with both of them, but the first slow lick of his tongue had her back arching off the bed anyway.

He took his time now...no rush, no urgency. Long, deliberate strokes that cleaned and teased in equal measure. He sucked gently on her clit, then soothed with the flat of his tongue, building her back up with devastating patience.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him there, hips rocking against his mouth.

That’s when he reached for the drawer in the small bedside cabinet—the one every on-call room had for emergencies.

Valentina’s eyes widened when she heard the familiar crinkle of a glove packet.

“What are you...”

He tore it open with his teeth, sliding one finger into the latex glove with deliberate slowness, eyes locked on hers the whole time.

“Hospital resources,” he murmured, voice dark with promise. “Gotta make use of what we have.”

He slicked the gloved finger with her own wetness, then circled her entrance before pushing in alongside his tongue on her clit. The cool latex was a shocking contrast to the heat of his mouth, making her clench hard.

Then he reached deeper into the drawer and pulled out a single-use packet of surgical lube...standard issue for procedures, but never meant for this.

He tore it open, drizzling the cool gel over her, rubbing it in with slow, firm strokes that had her moaning loudly now, no longer caring who might hear.

One gloved finger became two, stretching her, scissoring gently while his tongue flicked relentlessly. Then he crooked them, pressing against that spot inside that made her see white.

“Fuck...Rafael..."

He hummed against her clit, the vibration sending sparks through her entire body.

She was close again....impossibly, after everything but he knew. He always knew.

He pulled back just long enough to grab one more thing from the drawer: a disposable vibrating pulse oximeter probe, the kind that clips on a finger but has a gentle vibration mode for circulation checks. He flicked it on, the low buzz filling the quiet room.

Her breath hitched.

He pressed the vibrating tip against her clit while his gloved fingers thrust deep and steady.

That was it.

The orgasm slammed into her like a freight train harder than any before, ripping a raw cry from her throat as her body convulsed, thighs clamping around his head, back bowing clear off the mattress.

He didn’t stop.

He kept the vibration going, fingers curling, mouth sucking until she was sobbing with overstimulation, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

Only when she went limp, trembling and gasping, did he ease off tossing the probe aside, peeling off the glove, and crawling back up her body to hold her through the aftershocks.

He kissed her tears away, murmuring soft praises against her skin.

“So fucking beautiful when you let go,” he whispered. “My fierce, perfect Valentina.”

She clung to him, heart pounding, body utterly spent.

And that’s when it happened.

The lights flickered once.

Twice.

Then blazed on haarsh, fluorescent white flooding the room like an interrogation.

Valentina froze, eyes wide, suddenly hyper-aware of everything: her legs spread wide, Rafael’s head still between her thighs, his mouth glistening with her, the discarded glove and lube packet on the floor, the pulse ox probe buzzing faintly where it had fallen.

He didn’t move at first.

Just looked up at her, lips shiny and swollen, eyes dark with satisfaction and a hint of amusement.

The hum of the AC kicked back on. Distant voices echoed in the hallway staff returning, generators powering down.

Reality crashed in.

But Rafael didn’t pull away.

Instead, he pressed one last slow, deliberate kiss to her oversensitive clit making her jerk and whimper before lifting his head.

“Looks like the power’s back,” he said, voice husky, utterly unashamed.

He crawled up her body, kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on his tongue one final time.

When he pulled back, his expression was serious now, but soft in a way she’d never seen.

“This doesn’t end here,” he said quietly. “Not for me.”

She stared at him, chest rising and falling, still reeling.

The bright lights buzzed overhead, illuminating every mark he’d left on her skin, every truth they’d exposed in the dark.

She reached up, fingers brushing his jaw.

“Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m just getting started.”

Outside, the hospital woke up beeps and voices and the rhythm of a new day.

Inside the on-call room, the door was still locked.

And neither of them made a move to open it.

Not yet.